All About the Job
by SilentG
Summary: Goren and Eames are back together, but Eames isn't pleased. Pre-season 10 WAFF, if you can believe it. Now complete with Chapter 3 rated "M".
1. ARCHIVAL FOOTAGE

**Author:** SilentG  
**Title:** All About the Job  
**Fandom:** LO:CI  
**Pairing:** B/A  
**Rating:** T for now  
**Spoilers:** Loyalty  
**Archive:** Anywhere – no need to ask – just attribute, and let me know if possible  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Summary:** Goren and Eames are back together, but Eames isn't pleased. Pre-season 10 WAFF, if you can believe it. 

**A/N 1:** It's raining, I'm PMSing and reading angsty fics; maybe that's why I'm writing angsty. And I have soooooo many fics on the go (way more than I have posted), but this was the one that wanted to be written. BTW thank my biggest fan likeit for this fic; I was committed to not blowing my load by too quickly posting everything I have, but she said she needed a boost, so expect the rest of this fic by shabbes Vancouver time.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER ONE: ARCHIVAL FOOTAGE**

Robert Goren and Alex Eames returned to 1PP in time to bid farewell to Detective Nichols. All he said was goodbye and good luck, but the wounds in his eyes told the real story. The shake-up that had resulted in the resignations and dismissals of Moran and several other top Brass had taken its toll on a lot of personnel throughout the force, and the lanky detective – who was much more sensitive than his smart mouth let on – had decided to retire for good.

"Well, good luck with it," he drawled, schlepping a sparsely-furnished cardboard box towards the elevators.

"What, you aren't on today?" Alex said, doffing her jacket and hanging it on the chair at her new desk, Nichols's old one.

"Nah, I'm done. I just came in to, uh," he put the box down and walked back towards them, "Shake your hands and wish you well." He extended his hand first to Eames, who'd been reinstated as a Lieutenant, then to Goren. "I can't say I'm happy you're back – I wouldn't wish that on either of you – but I'm happy for the people of New York. Farewell, my friends," he murmured, sighing as he strolled away.

Bobby sat down where Detective Stevens used to sit. She'd transferred at the request of Lieutenant Maas to a Homicide division in the Bronx that had been hard-hit by the internal investigation, to help stabilize the squad.

In the end, Bobby hadn't worked with the FBI on the Hassan case – although they'd offered it to him. He'd gone to Quantico to work – not at Behavioral Sciences as many would have expected – but rather in their Cold Case division. If you'd asked him if he was just biding his time until he could come back to Major Case, he'd have denied it.

Alex had accepted a contract position as an instructor at the Academy. Her family tried to pretend that losing her job and her partner hadn't left her more drained and gutted than Jo Gage had, but in their hearts, they knew the truth. The shadow was darkest over her after she spoke to Nathan or Bobby.

The two ex-partners talked often, but not long or deeply. Alex took great care to hide her wounds from Bobby, and for his part, if he was pained at all about anything, it didn't show.

**o.o.o.o.o**

Two weeks passed. The year at Quantico had done Bobby good, because he was more than on his game. With Alex he was agitated, jumpy. He asked her a couple of times to let him buy her lunch or dinner, but she demurred, and whenever he called her when they weren't on duty, she begged off.

Alex was on the ball and professional, but there was a brittleness, a distance, that hadn't been there before. Even after Gage, she'd been a tiny bit vulnerable, reaching out. It wasn't exactly like when Bobby returned from suspension, but almost.

It was an innocent comment that set her off.

She'd returned from the photocopier to find Bobby chatting with Detective Jeffries.

"I can't believe you'd choose to come back here, Goren, when you had a chance to really fly at the FBI. Wasn't just clearing your jacket here enough?"

Bobby smiled and shook his head. "Nah. I was champing at the bit to get back here. This is where I've always wanted to be." As he spoke, he noticed Alex's approach, but at his words, she scowled and made a beeline for the washrooms. He never got a chance to answer Jeffries' next question.

"Would you have come back without Eames?"

**o.o.o.o.o**

When he barged into the ladies' room, he found she'd locked herself into a stall. If he felt like he was invading her privacy, he didn't care.

"Go away, Detective." Her voice was soft and husky.

"No. Listen, Eames…" He was breathing heavily, although he hadn't exerted himself.

The latch unhooked scratchily and the stall door swung to. Without looking at her partner, Alex marched to the sink and began rinsing her face.

"Eames, are you all right?" He had to speak loudly to be heard over the splashing water.

"Do I seem all right?" Her words were muffled in her cupped hands.

"Alex…"

She abruptly swung up and turned to him. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. She pointed a finger at him viciously; her voice trembled with fury. "You went after Van Dekker to try to get fired. You purposely tried to get yourself fired."

Bobby stoically absorbed her anger, but at her words his face crumpled. He finally nodded. "Yeah, I did. But…"

"_This_ was where you always wanted to be, Detective?" Alex laughed humorlessly. "What a joke. You were just going to – leave."

Bobby looked around the room as if he were trying to physically find the right words to say. "I… Is that all we had, Alex? Work? Is that all we are?"

She stared at him for a second before realization dawned. "You're doing this now, Detective," she hissed, "You're going to do this NOW?"

He stared at her for a long second, then started pacing. He punctuated his words with waves of his arms. "Are you saying I'm too late? Too early?" He punctuated his words with waves of his arms. "I just don't want to end up retired, alone, and you're alone too… or married to some – someone you don't… just to please your family… and we could have – been –" Seeming to shrink after his outburst, Bobby bent his head and closed his eyes.

She made a sound of derision. "I wouldn't marry someone just to please my family."

"You'd marry someone just to feel like part of your family."

He straightened up, glaring at her, daring her to contradict him. "I think… that people do a lot of kooky things when they've been alone too long." Their eyes locked. Her face softened an iota; she nodded in understanding. He continued, deflated, "I don't want things to just go back to the way they were before. I want…" He waved his arms around vaguely. "More, Eames."

Alex, who'd stared daggers at her partner since he began speaking, threw up her hands and started walking out. "I can't do this right now, I can't deal with this."

He grabbed her arm as she brushed past him.

"I didn't want to leave you, Alex. But I was just tired of failing. I was tired of trying, and failing, and all in front of you."

She stopped. And almost smiled. "I was afraid you were going to say you did it for my career."

He smiled back. "You didn't need me to crash and burn to help your career, Eames, you're a big girl. I believed you when you said you were where you wanted to be."

Her face closed and she pulled her arm out of his grasp. "I was."

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** Wheeee! Another WIPeeeee! Please review meeeeeee!

WORDS: 1348 UPLOADED Wednesday, October 20, 2010


	2. SPECULATIVE FRICTION

**A/N 1:** I just can't stop thinking about them.

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**CHAPTER TWO: SPECULATIVE FRICTION**

He'd been contemplating returning to the FBI – would she let him court her if they didn't work together? Or maybe she just didn't want him.

It was a Friday, two weeks after their dust-up at 1PP. He was at home on the couch, with a beer and a bag of potato chips. To make the FBI fitness exam, he'd restricted his junk food consumption to one night a week. Tonight was that night.

He realised too late that he'd planned himself into a corner – the wrong corner, apparently. A friend in IAB told him last year that a major shake-up was going to happen in the upper Brass, and not to stray too far afield. He'd arranged to get Eames an offer from the Academy just so that she wouldn't go and take a job across the country or something.

And he'd waited.

Every time they'd talked on the phone, he'd wanted to tell her – everything. But he just couldn't get the words out. Heck, he couldn't even get the words out now. But if she didn't want him, and she wasn't happy, what was the point of being here? And if she wanted him, but couldn't face taking the step when they worked together, then he was better off elsewhere. Maybe he could get a placement at the NY field office; he hadn't burnt any bridges when he left the FBI.

And he couldn't read Eames.

She didn't seem particularly mad at him. If anything, she seemed to be trying extra-hard to get along. But in the strictest possible professional sense. Since their blow-up in the ladies' room, he'd not called her at home again, and she'd made no effort to reach out.

Did what he'd said to her before constitute a proposition? Should he try one more time to make himself clear to her?

His doorbell rang.

**o.o.o.o.o**

Bobby stood with his hand on the door handle after her knock. When her voice had come over the intercom, he'd been excited, then irritated, then flustered. Wondering if it was worth it to rush around tidying and brush his teeth, then deciding it was, by the time he'd heard her at the door the chips had been stashed away out of sight, the beer had been quickly guzzled, and all traces of his illicit snack gone from his mouth, his face, and the front of his shirt.

When he opened the door, she marched through and in without looking at him. She'd changed since work, into jeans, runners and a hoodie that made her look about 20 years old. She kept walking, paused at his sofa, then circled back like a big cat pacing its cage. When she finally tilted her face up to his, she looked defiant and… something else. When she pulled her hands out of her pockets and tugged her hood down, he saw that she'd put her hair up. It made him feel hopeful, for some reason.

She looked around again. "Everything looks the same," she said, a little hoarsely.

He nodded, feeling tired all of a sudden. "Yup. Everything's back the way it was." He ignored the scowl she sent his way as he gestured for her to sit. "Wanna beer? Coffee?" He shuffled the few steps to his open kitchen.

"Water, please," she said, clearing her throat. She tucked her handbag between the sofa and his armchair and unzipped her hoodie, revealing the fuchsia satin of her camisole. In the kitchen, Bobby ran the water until it was cold, filling two large tumblers and trying not to stare. He found his hope joined by a tiny whisper of anticipation.

When he switched off the kitchen light and joined her, he found his little lounge area cosy and inviting with her in it. Heading for the lazyboy, he turned and instead seated himself next to her on the sofa. He was pleased to see, when she made eye contact with him, that she wasn't looking stormy, only piqued. He doubted she was mustering for a fight.

After a few moments of them both sitting, staring at the glasses in their hands, he spoke up. "So?"

She sighed and smiled ruefully, sucking on her lips. "I came to… talk… about what happened in the, uh, bathroom."

"Great. I've been wanting to do that for two weeks."

He'd snapped at her, and regretted it instantly, but surprisingly, she only nodded. "I wasn't ready to discuss it before."

"But you are now?"

This time she did react, rolling her eyes. "Bobby, did I wreck something permanently that day?" She looked at him like a perp in the interview room.

"No, no of course not." He shook his head.

"Then quit being such a grouch!" He nodded and grinned at her.

"Bobby…" She looked down and away, pursing her lips as she did when she was choosing her words carefully. "I didn't realise right away what you'd done." She didn't have to say what – he knew she meant roughing up Van Dekker. He nodded. "But when I did," she sighed heavily, "I was furious. And so, so hurt. I felt… abandoned." He began twitching and shifting restlessly. "I wish you would have _talked to me_ about it."

He opened his mouth to answer her, but she held up a hand. "I know. You had your reasons why, and I realise that now. But I – didn't at first – and it took me a while to figure that out too." He felt an urgent need to jump up and run away; she seemed to sense it, and stilled him with a quelling glance. Then her expression softened. "I just didn't know… how you felt. About me. And then you – just _left_." Alex looked at him expectantly. Now it was his turn.

"Alex, I didn't know… that you would be the one to – and then…"

She shook her head and waved. "Don't worry about that, Bobby. But I don't understand why you couldn't have…" She paused, looking for the words. "If you didn't want to work at Major Case any more…" Her face said what her words couldn't. _Was it me?_

"Alex…" He took a chance and reached out to gently take her hand in his. She inhaled sharply, but didn't pull away. He was too shy to risk looking at her. "I've felt… I've wanted…" – _This_ – "For a, a while now." He saw her bow her head out of the corner of his eye. "But at work, I just felt like we were in a holding pattern. I couldn't see how to make anything – happen – and even trying as hard as I could to behave, I was never going to redeem myself with Moran." She looked up at him and began to shake her head, _no no no_, but he held her off. "I know it doesn't matter to you, but it mattered to me, your reputation, what people – your family, your colleagues – would think of you."

She made a sound of exasperation and turned abruptly towards him, but didn't withdraw her hand. "And you thought, what? That you'd just run away, save the day somewhere, ride back into town and throw me over the back of your horse?"

He couldn't help but smile at the image, and when he looked at her, she was smiling too.

"You never needed to prove yourself to me," she said quietly, "But I understood that you felt you needed to. It just…" She trailed off, looking doubtful and hesitant all of a sudden.

"If you're afraid – that I can't – do it…"

"Do what?" She looked up in surprise.

He squeezed her hand and smiled what he hoped was his most charming smile. "Be… in a relationship." He could understand why she'd wonder.

Hesitancy gone, she caressed the hand that held hers. "You have been. For ten years. With me." She held his gaze, and the whisper of anticipation grew into a rush. "I mean… it wouldn't really be that different from what we had before – trust, misunderstandings, loyalty, fights, respect, love, circling the wagons, spending all our time together…"

"Well… and," he smiled hopefully.

"And?" She grinned back at him.

He pulled her to him. "Are you attracted to me, Eames?"

"Are you?" She didn't seem the least bit surprised or offended when he slipped his hands beneath her hoodie to feel the smooth satin covering her warm skin.

"I'm very attracted to you, Eames."

"Me too."

Feeling shy about kissing her, he leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. "So how do you want to do this?"

She smirked and ran her hands up and down his arms. "It's been that long, huh Detective?"

"It's been a, uh, long time."

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** Two other CI bad girls on _The Good Wife_: Amy Acker, who played Leslie LeZard, ansd the chick (too lazy to look her up) who murdered the architect's son.

WORDS: 1572 UPLOADED Thursday, October 21, 2010

Please review. I would love it if you'd review.


	3. YIPPIKAYAY, MOFO

**A/N 1:** I should tell you, that the first two chapters were merely a brief introduction to the hot detective sex in Chapter 3. Enjoy!

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**CHAPTER THREE: YIPPIKAYAY, MOFO**

It had taken Alex two weeks to work through the odd combination of confusion, exasperation and arousal she'd felt after her blowup with Bobby in the ladies' room.

It was gratifying to know – finally, _for certain_ – that he loved her, wanted her, but that man's timing! And choice of venue. Aah well, after ten years, she should have been used to it.

She'd gotten herself so worked up over the idea that he thought he could just breeze back into town after a year and go back to the way things were, that when she realised that he actually wanted things to be different, it was too much of a surprise, and she needed a major block of time to re-adjust.

But after hours every night, sitting on her sofa with a glass of wine thinking, she realised that it was OK, that he'd gone, and OK that he'd come back, and yes, it was OK that things would be different now… very different.

How different was evidenced by the big, warm hands that seemed to be touching her _everywhere_ under her hoodie. She and Bobby were leaning close together… she could smell his toothpaste, and a tiny hint of sweat. She wanted to kiss him, but she was quite nervous, actually. She covered her anxiety with banter.

"A long time, huh? We talking months, or years?"

**o.o.o.o.o**

Their lovemaking was a catharsis for Alex, both physically and emotionally. The feeling of Bobby, warm and heavy over her as they moved together, stirred her body to life in a way that had eluded her for more than a decade, and affected her so deeply that it drew from her, between his soft murmurs, three words that she had only said to one other person. It was soon, but it felt right to say.

After was only a little awkward. She held tight to him, but unnecessarily, as he seemed reluctant to leave her body. She felt hyper-sensitive and invigorated, but relaxed, from every inch of her skin down deep into her bones, as if she'd just been tickled by a hundred deft fingers.

When she told him so, of course he just had to reach down and tickle her waist. Her resulting deep belly laughs finally pushed his softening cock from within her, which only made her laugh even harder. When her unladylike guffaws finally diminished to giggles, Bobby began kissing her all over her sweaty face, whispering _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,_ in between every kiss.

"You're not offended?" She asked a few minutes later, as Bobby reached for some Kleenex to clean them both up.

Bobby's face, so soft and relaxed and happy, turned quizzical. "About what?"

"Me laughing. Not every man is OK with a woman laughing her guts out right after…"

He smiled as he fished her panties out of her purse. "Is that your litmus test?"

"It is now," she joked. "Nice aim, by the way."

"Thank you," he said in mock seriousness, nodding in her direction as he slid her panties back over her legs. "But Alex," he said, gripping her knees and sitting between them, "You aren't going to be testing anyone, is that clear? Not ever again." The dead calm on his face took her breath away. It was a look she had barely ever seen on him, even in the darkest moments of their most serious cases. While his mien stole her voice so that she could only nod, it awoke something in her cunt, and without a thought to how unlike her it was, she reached out her arms to him, begging for his touch.

He refused her embrace, wagging a finger at her, but she allowed him to take both her wrists in one hand and hold them loosely over her head as he leaned over her. "And Alex," he murmured as he looked at her intently, "We aren't going to be discussing any men – or women – at any time remotely connected to lovemaking. OK? _And we're going to be making love a lot,_" he whispered in her ear.

"No talking about you-know-what when we're making love, huh?" She asked between bites.

"Yup."

She bounced up and onto his lap. "How 'bout when we're making love?" She cackled when he choked on his beer, then screamed when he smacked her soundly on her ass.

"I'll make you a deal, Eames. You go ahead and try, because if you can talk about anything but lovemaking when we're lovemaking, then I'm not doing my job right."

"Taking your new job seriously, huh?"

"You know me, Eames. I'm all about the job."

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** I'd originally called this fic "The Same, Only Better", but then when I wrote the last line, I was like OMG OMG OMG. And finally, another fic with an early alphabet letter. Almost all my fics start with T or later, and statistically, fics are like Yellow Pages entries; the more popular ones are a the top of the alphabet.

Please review, a line or two

Or three or four, you will not bore

Write five or six, I need my fix

Pen seven or eight, I cannot wait

To read your lines, both long and small

They make me fly, I know not why

I only whine, I only cry

I only bawl

At none at all.

WORDS: 939 UPLOADED Monday, June 4, 2012


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